


falling is just like dying

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angels, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, F/M, POV Second Person, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time you die, you remember a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling is just like dying

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Prompt #118 - Divinity at fullmoon_ficlet. When I saw “Divinity” I thought “Lydia Martin is a goddess” but that seemed too simple. This sort of sideswipes the prompt, and there are things not explicitly said, and yes, you can blame my fascination with Jordan Parrish and my current marathoning of SPN for this. Enjoy! As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

Every time you die, you remember a little more.

#

The first time, in the flames, there is nothing. They tell you everything: you are different, supernatural, something beyond human. You walk out of a fire that strips the clothes from your body, and you are _alive_. You are told that you are _other_ , something vaguely valuable to those who hunt your kind. Whatever your kind is.

You know that the call of Beacon Hills drew you to this place, but you still can’t say why you heard it, or why you answered.

You only know that you could do nothing else.

After the fire, you feel that siren call thrum in your veins, like the fire still burns inside your body, making you ache with the heat of not knowing.

After the fire, you dream of immolation, and a beautiful girl who sings your name.

#

The gravedigger clocks you over the head with a shovel, caves your skull in deep than throws you in a shallow grave and covers you in dirt. You gasp and inhale clumps in your throat and specks in your lungs, and when you breathe out, life flows into the earth around you.

The earth claims you.

You come to in a hole with the dirt thick under your nails and your lungs perfectly clear and breathing easily. Your shoulders ache as if you landed on them, as if someone beat you across them, leaving deep bruises engraved on your bones.

On the other hand, your head feels fine.

When Lydia Martin appears, crouching by the side of your grave with one hand held out and her expression expectant, you aren’t at all surprised.

“I didn’t scream when you disappeared,” she says. Her fingers tangle with yours and she pulls you out of the grave, helps you step back above the earth, reclaiming your space. Her fingers drift across your cheek as she murmurs, “I’m beginning to think you’re the one person I can trust not to die.”

You’re not sure if that’s what’s happening, or if you _do_ die and it doesn’t stick. You need to figure that out someday.

When you spend the next day scratching at your shoulders, she nudges you into the shower, scrubs the dirt from your skin until you are red and aching. They still itch, and she asks what is wrong, but you have no answer. “Something’s missing,” you say, thinking aloud. “Something’s lost.”

#

When the boat capsizes, you are the only one who drowns.

You see Stiles pulling Lydia into a lifeboat, and Derek grips the side to swim with them. Isaac helps Scott, and Kira floats with a piece of wood under her.

Then you go under, yanked down and held until the world goes black.

You lie on a beach, the sand hot under your body even though you still shiver from the aftermath of the cold water. Lydia straddles you, hands on your chest, considering you carefully.

“I didn’t need to,” she says, and you don’t know whether she means _scream_ or _save you_ , but both are true.

“I didn’t come here just to leave again,” you tell her, because it is the truth.

Her mouth quirks, tilting up at the sides. She leans forward a little more, wet shirt clinging to her body, hair swinging damply against your cheeks. “I thought you were drawn here by the Nemeton?”

“I was drawn here,” you clarify, and she smiles softly before leaning into to kiss you.

You take her home and you worship her, body and soul, treasuring her and delighting in the way she smiles in the aftermath of pleasure. When you are with her, for just a moment, you remember how to fly.

#

Usually dying seems so easy.

It’s not the first time you’ve suffocated, felt the air leak from your lungs, but this time you are along. You are trapped in a tiny box, wide awake and still desperately alive as the lack of air presses in around you. You gasp and try to draw breath, heart skipping and skin clammy as you pray that someone finds you soon. You can imagine dying and awakening over and over again until you are released from this small prison.

The world goes dark once, and you feel the flutter of wings at your back, the sense of wind beneath you, bearing you up before it releases you and lets you fall.

The world goes dark twice and you plummet to the earth.

The world goes dark one final time when you strike the ground, air rushing out with your life following in its wake.

Lydia brings back the light.

She frames your face, kisses your lips and breathes into your mouth; you inhale her breath as your own, ragged and true.

“Did you scream,” you ask, and she shakes her head, leaning in to press close to you until your arms go around her, enfolding and holding on tight. You kiss her forehead, reassure her. “I told you: I’m not leaving.”

“What are you?” she whispers, and you don’t answer. You know now, but it’s not for her ears. It’s not important anymore. Instead you wrap yourself around her, hold on tight to the one who brought you here. The one who is your anchor, the one who you will watch over and protect.

The one for whom you stepped out of your own world and let go of who you used to be.

The one for whom you fell.

“I’m just Jordan,” you whisper, grazing kisses against her cheek. “And I’ll be by your side for as long as you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com).


End file.
